Page 12 of Highlander’s Haunted Past

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There are very few places in the worldthat can rival the Scottish Highlands during the fall, Rob thought.

The lush shades of green that dominated the landscape were now tempered with hints of red and gold, shades that would soon consume the rest before caving to the icy winter frosts. Fall was his favorite time of year, and he inwardly thanked the Earl of Huntly for choosing this particular season to rebel against the crown.

Rob’s enjoyment of the scenery was cut by a laugh. Her laugh. Glancing over his shoulder, pretending that he was simply scanning the line of trees a few paces from the edge of the road, he saw Kenna in a fit of giggles as she rode alongside a couple of his men and the Earl of Sutherland.

At least someone is enjoying my new bride, he thought bitterly.

It had been a week since they had left Inverness Castle, making a slow but steady pace through the hills toward Aberdeen. Things between he and Kenna were yet to improve. Each night, when they were alone in their tent, Rob swore she was putting on a show, her hips swaying in front of him as she slowly pulled off her riding clothes, standing only in that godforsaken shift that hid absolutely nothing as she gently washed the day’s dust off of her face and neck. He had made it a habit to just drape his plaid over his lap whenever he sat and spent a good portion of his daydreaming about the things he could do to her that would make her beg.

And he would need her to beg him soon.

When they had left the wedding feast for her bedchambers, Rob had known full well where her mind was. But then they had sat, drunk, talked, and laughed. He thought he could feel the stone wall between them starting to crumble stone by stone. He had tested the wall’s strength by taking her hand and holding it tight, and she hadn’t pulled away. Then the damnable woman had let him undress her, allowing him to relish in the flush of her skin as he drew his hands along her perfect figure as he stripped away the last of what lay between them.

But, wall or not, she had still seen him as an invader. An unwelcome guest who was pressing upon a weakness born of duty—the same duty that should have led her to sit upon the bed and call for him, despite her reservations. She would have laid there quietly, letting him do what he wished and taking whatever he wanted as a conqueror of her and her family. But she would never have forgiven him.

The thought made him ill. Certain wounds could be healed, but others, the ones that lingered in the back of one’s mind and emerged to cast shadows across dreams, were not so simple. Thinking that he could have hurt her in that way was a force against his manhood, though eager it still was. No, the sweetest treats were ones earned, or in this case, begged for.

I’ll never have a woman again, Rob thought with a grimace.

A lass as stubborn as Kenna would never bend so low as to beg, even if she wanted to. He liked that about her, but he hated it even more.

When he had awoken the morning after the wedding, he had encountered the first test of his will. There she was, one of the bonniest women he had ever seen, curled up beside him, her dark hair loose and falling in perfect little streams through each turn and bend of her body and her shift hiked up to the point that each supple cheek of her buttocks was threatening to escape. It had taken all of his willpower (and all the cold water left in the basin) not to wake her, begging her to beg him.

Instead, as he sat waiting for her to wake, he had formulated a plan.

He knew his men and how they behaved outside of Dounie, without their wives and mothers to keep them in check. Vulgar was too kind a word. When Rob brought his new bride down, and they went out on the road, they would set in against the newlyweds. There would be nothing else for them to do but devise fresh ribs. Kenna, who was yet to let something disagreeable pass without comment, would volley back some retort. The men wouldn’t want a woman telling them off, so they would leave her on her own. Kenna would, eventually, decide that talking to Rob was better than no one at all, and he could begin his slow pursuit of wooing her. Perhaps he would even help her earn the respect and friendship of his men, and she would thank him with a blush on her face. The marriage would be consummated, and his wife would be fully pleased with her new situation by the time they reached Aberdeen.

It had been a beautiful plan, masterful, even, Rob had dared to think.

Kenna had awoken that morning with a visible headache due to all the liquor she had consumed, turning green at a plate of warm bannocks delivered by the maids who collected the sheets to be ceremoniously examined by the Queen, Rob’s father, and Kenna’s brothers. Rob had been ecstatic. Illness would surely push her to be even more quick to snap at some ill-placed comment.

But, of course, the wedding party had not just affected Kenna—all of his men were weary from the drinking. So weary that many were still drunk and the rest far too ill to say anything—let alone a good, lewd quip. Murtagh, a man Rob had long considered one of his best, had been riding beside them when he finally retched over the side of his horse. Kenna, without a second thought, had fished a few mint leaves from the pocket of her dusty blue riding coat and passed them over wordlessly.

Within an hour, all of the men had come to Kenna for a bit of mint to soothe their stomachs and rid their mouths of the taste of bile. When they started passing flasks, declaring the hair of the dog to be the best remedy for their current ills, Kenna had been the first one they had passed it to. Before Rob knew it had happened, the men had roped Kenna into one of their asinine debates, asking for their new lady to settle the matter. That, of course, turned into a full conversation, and the next thing he knew, she was in the middle of the group, delivering a witty response that nearly brought the men to tears. Rob had remained hopeful that at some point one of the men would take it too far and Kenna would slam down something harsh in return, driving them away from her company. But no, they enjoyed her company too much to say anything truly offensive. If any came close, she just shot them a look, and they would dip their heads in quick apology, earning her smile and forgiveness.

When they made camp that night, several of his men had clapped him on the shoulder to congratulate him on having such a wife. The bloody woman was beloved.

His men were not the only ones he caught in her company. Whether it was one of the Queen’s maids, his father, or even the damn Earl of Sutherland, Kenna seemed to find everyone in the large traveling party to be a welcomed companion other than Rob. All he got from her were some awkward conversations followed by a few angry volleys between them before they fell asleep, side by side but as far apart as the blankets allowed.

The only person that was yet to abandon him for the company of his wife was his brother, Hugh. They spent most of their days riding together, often breaking off from the main party to go riding through the land beyond the road, catching rabbits and squirrels for dinner and laying traps they could ride back to while the rest of the party continued their slow meanders. The rides away from Kenna and the rest kept Rob’s head clear, giving him a moment to pretend he was back at Dounie, hunting in the Highland hills beside his brother like any normal day.

Besides the fact that their pace meant it would take nearly three times as long to travel from Inverness to Aberdeen as it otherwise would, it also had the effect of keeping each fighting man a bit on his toes at all times. The Earl of Huntly was still in rebellion, and here they were, riding brazenly through his land to protect the very queen he rebelled against. Every time the bushes along the road rustled or the sun’s glare cast a strange shadow on a nearby hilltop, men would freeze with their hand at their weapons, waiting for an enemy that was yet to appear.

Even Rob’s father seemed to be on edge, eager to hear any bit of news from the Queen. However, if she had any knowledge of the Earl of Huntly’s movements, she did not have a mind to share it with them. At least he and Hugh’s daily rides gave his own clansmen some confidence. With the brothers circling the group, checking for signs of Gordons on the attack and finding nothing, the Frasers were yet to spook.

The same couldn’t be said for a small group of Mackenzies, who the day before had gone barreling into the trees, screaming like mad, sure that they had seen Gordon tartan. They found a herd of deer instead, and the Queen’s displeasure could be heard, echoing through the hills, for miles.

Rob was in the middle of laughing at the memory of Jacob Mackenzie being castigated by a woman a quarter of his size when a loud whistle echoed down the road. Sure enough, the sun had started its descent, and it was time to make camp. It was a good place, for once. There was a large open field that had pressed back against the forest, leaving the entire camp plenty of room to set their tents and fires while maintaining a safe distance from the mysteries that hid behind the density of the foliage.

“Rob!” Kenna rode up alongside him and made a quick dismount.

“Aye?”

“I am off to wash in the river with some of the other women.”

She looked almost too eager. He supposed she wasn’t used to so many days on the road or the futility of trying to clean from only a small basin day after day.